Nothing but the warmth of death and forgiveness
by Cid Dante
Summary: (rated pg-13 for the moment) Following an attack, Baralai is left wondering if Shuyin truly is gone. However, the attack awakens feelings in him that he had hidden from a close friend......(yaoi)


Don't own any of the characters. Squaresoft does. Trust me, if I did, Baralai, Nooj and Gippal would *not* be leaving my bedroom. 

First chapter is grown up. It's a lot more darker than what I usually do for fanfics. Also, it's my first ffx-2 fic and I've been playing the game for like 3 weeks so forgive me if the characters seem ooc. I think it's pretty good for a 1st attempt.

Warning: Implied non censual rape. Strong language. 

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Bevelle

Confusion. That was the one of the words that could describe the current situation at the normally peaceful and far to complacent city of Bevelle. Chaos and impossible following a close second and third.

However, the scenes that the once proud Bevelle were witnessing had not been confined to the city. All the Yevon temples were facing the same commotion. 

The cause was at the temple, something big was happening. Something was occurring deep down in the Chamber of the Fayth and it would effect the entire planet. Perhaps plunging the planet of Spira once again into darkness.

A deep and ancient roar filled the cavern, making the entire temple shake. The large hole that had been left by the almighty aeon Bahamut began to glow slowly, a dazzling green liquid began to seep through the cracks. Screams could be heard throughout the halls, the cries of the dead echoed and rattled around the chamber.

The temple's praetor raced down the corridor, his sleep hazed mind slowly lifting off the fogginess as he stumbled. His white hair fell into his eyes and his mouth held back a long yawn.

It was late at night and the stars had all made their wondrous dance hours ago. He, himself, had made his weary way to his room only a few short hours ago, hoping to lose himself in a dreamless sleep.

As it had been for the past few weeks, his sleep eluded him. His dreams came back as nightmares. Not one of them seemed to grant him closure, all bleeding into each other. Feeding off every one that had preceded it.

Guards bolted past him, none really noticing the fact that their exalted leader was wearing nothing more covering than a pair of simple baggy pants and a white sleeveless vest.

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I look more like a playgirl fantasy than the leader of New Yevon, he shook his head, tousling his bed hair further.

Yawns kept creeping up on him faster and more viscously than they would normally. He had never had a decent night sleep since he took this blasted position, a small part felt jealousy towards his two battle companions.

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Bet they get plenty of sleep, he thought bitterly, _it's not like they get old men knocking on the door and asking for guidance…_

A smile threatened to grace his handsome features, _Well…maybe Nooj. The old men are probably looking for the bathroom and he is getting on the wrong side of...the wrong side of what?_

Any type of thinking about his once comrade-in-arms was halted with an abrupt and rude stop. A large guard rammed into him, cursing the smaller praetor with language that would of made even Gippal blush.

"Why don't you watch where your fucking going? Fucking bitch," the guard didn't even look up from picking up his weapon as he continued to degrade the now fully awake praetor.

"I was," he responded in a carefully neutral way, his temper barely keeping in check.

"Looks fucking like it buddy. Why don't you go back to whatever whore ya where screwing," the guard growled, still not fully comprehending who he was talking too.

Baralai's eyes widened to saucers, if he hadn't spent time in the company of the now defunct Crimson Squad, he would of rushed to the nearest temple and begged for this man's forgiveness. However, he had spent time and he was not known for his lack of words if something offended him.

"I am Praetor Baralai," he hissed, "Leader of New Yevon. Now, would you care to repeat the words you just said?"

"I…my lord. I did not realise," the man suddenly became docile and his eyes huge as he finally cottoned on to who he had been addressing.

Baralai growled his annoyance, "What is going on? Why are we all running around like headless chocobos?"

The guard pointed further down the corridor, "Something is happening in the Chamber of the fayth. None dare enter it."

Baralai could feel the cold Bevelle air kiss his bare arms and he ignored the guard, he could hear someone calling out to him. Someone in pain. He could here the screams that were coming from down the elegantly decorated hall.

"Someone is in that room," he whispered, more to himself than to anyone.

The teachings of Yevon, old and new kicked in. It was his duty to go in and rescue all those in need. Even if it meant giving his own life in return.

Without thinking he grabbed the guards gun and carefully started his jog down the carpeted hall. His bare feet hardly making a sound as he came closer to the heavy door.

He paused for a long moment, doubt filling his mind. He was not allowed to enter, the chamber for only those of summoner lineage and he was not. The large intricately carved door remained firmly sealed, muffling the screams and cries.

Shivers raced down his spine, one after another. The air around him taking on a deathly chill. His teeth threatened to chatter in his skull as his body responded to the sudden temperature drop.

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It's like Bikanel Desert, he swallowed, wondering when his mouth had gotten so dry and his throat so tight.

A hand placed itself firmly on his shoulder and it took all his strength not to cry out in surprise. He held his breath for a long second before slowly letting it escape through a long angry hiss.

"Do not _ever_ do that again," he hissed.

The hand's owner removed the offending limb and bowed slightly. Annoyed at how snappy the young praetor had became over the past few weeks. No way for a leader to behave in front of his people.

"My apologies," the monk offered, "My lord, allow the guards to enter the chamber."

Baralai opened his mouth in protest but was quickly silenced by the monk. The young man frowned, did these people not realise that he was an accomplished warrior? That he had unfortunately taken the life of others before?

"My Lord, if the fiends are once again rising," the balding monk explained, "Surely it would be far safer for you to return to your quarters and allow the guards to take care of it?"

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I am not a child, Baralai looked into the monk's eyes, hoping to send the thought telepathically to the older monk.

"All of New Yevon seems to have forgotten where their praetor came from," the young warrior responded, "I am a soldier. I can take care of myself."

The next comment from the monk was more like a verbal sneer, "Of course."

Did the monk still think that he was under the control of another? Being pulled like some puppet to a non existent dance? His usual calm and peaceful temper had been sparked by the guard and was now in danger of bubbling over.

Baralai brushed past he monk, ignoring the protesting monk. He placed a delicate hand on the ancient carvings, his mouth going even drier than it had before.

Slowly, the door opened. Baralai gripped the gun tighter, memories of Nooj and Gippal standing beside filled his mind. He took comfort in them, knowing that even if the world went to hell in a hand basket and he with it. Nooj and Gippal would shrug and saunter down into it then haul his Yevonite ass back out. Not one of them would complain, he would do the same for them. The un written law for the surviving Crimson Squad members, hell, he'd even do it for Paine. Though not as readily.

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Let's hope that this doorway doesn't lead to hell, the praetor frowned, _I don't think my soul could stand another bout of let's-use-the-praetor-in-our-mad-schemes-to-take-over-the-world game._

His dark eyes were diverted to something warm lapping at his feet, he had to blink twice in order to make sure that he was seeing correctly. The frown that he had been sporting creased his slender nose further as the liquid had a rather spicy but not completely unpleasant aroma.

He wiggled his toes in the liquid, the cries getting louder as the door raised further. His attention had been unfairly divided, part on the warm green liquid and part on the wailing cries from the chamber.

Again, the monk tried to plead him to stay, to allow the guards to make sure that the chamber was safe for him to enter. Once more, Baralai ignored him.

His dangerously soft voice seemed to be drowned by the cries. He cleared his throat, preparing himself to shout. If anyone was in there, he would try to reach them verbally, to make sure that no fiends lurked in the darkness.

"Are you injured?" he called louder, straining to hear any type of response.

None sprang forward or if they had, they were being consumed by the screams. Baralai's heart raced as he slowly took a calculated step in the menacing darkness.

Like a child, he raised his thumb to his lips and thoughtfully started to chew on the nail. He imagined Nooj looking at him with that disapproving gaze and Gippal? Well, Gippal wouldn't notice if he stayed on his blinded side, he didn't want the Al Bhed knowing he did this when he was frightened.

The wails had slowly intensified their cries, he knew in a few minutes, he wouldn't hear much. If a fiend was indeed occupying this room, it could easily terminate his life and send him to the Farplane.

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Where is this coming from? I can't see a fucking thing, Baralai removed his thumb from his lips and outstretched the same hand into the black void. He took a few moments to adjust his eyesight to the darkness.

"Is there anyone in…" the cries stopped suddenly, causing Baralai to wince at the harshness of his own voice.

"…here," he finished softly.

It was eerily quiet. Everything seemed to have stopped in the dark chamber. Time it seemed had decided to stand still and his own heart beat seemed to slow. His thoughts however raced from worse case to let's-get-the-hell-outta-here scenario.

The green liquid warmed his toes and ankles, soaking the bottom cuffs of his pants. The rest of his well toned form felt like it was encased in ice, his usually warm hands felt like he had plunged them into the pools of water at Mt Gagazet.

The shivers seemed to focus completely in his chest, his training telling him that his body was trying to keep his body temperature at a healthy level. His form missed the reassuring warmth of his friends at his back. If he was honest, at this moment in time, he missed them full stop.

Though he would never admit that to Nooj, knowing the strong warrior would grunt something and think him weak. Gippal would say something in Al Bhed and offer an embarrassed smile.

His eyes widened as he felt a hot sweaty breath pound down on the right side of his face. The smell caused his stomach to expel the small, meagre meal he had had for his supper.

He spat the remaining bile from his mouth but his throat seemed to suddenly lose the ability to follow the involuntary orders it had performed for so many years. A sticky hand slowly made it's way onto his form, slowly tracing the muscles it went over.

The door behind him fell shut, echoing throughout the chamber and in his mind. Baralai remained paralysed with fear, small whimpering sounds barely escaping his lips.

The hand seemed to gain confidence as it moved more quickly, however, still managing to feel like it wanted something more from him. The touches were far to lingering.

Try as he might, his body seemed to respond to the contact. His form actually wanting more of the strokes that it was currently receiving. His normally strong knees threatened to buckle as the breath found a particular sensitive area under his jaw.

To this day, Baralai could of sworn that he heard his assailant moan in pleasure, enjoying the fact that he or she had received such a welcomed response.

No amount of training in the temple or even advice that Nooj had dished out could prepare him. He could hear the panicked cries of the monks and guards outside. Hear them worry for their leader currently trapped away from them.

The reassuring metal of the gun seemed far to heavy for his cold hands to cope, it took all his strength not to release it from his ever fading grasp.

Choice had been taken away from him and all he could do was to utter his small protests in the from of pathetic whimpers. Even the ability to shed a tear had been taken from him, the cold room completely chilling his form.

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Syo so meva pa fundro du pa knylat po ouin vyjuin, syo ed pa knylat po ouin fectus. Syo ed pa knylat po ouin ajan mycdehk muja yht du pa mayt du dra bmyla fana bayla ec adanhym. E, Pynymye, caag hudrehk pid dra fynsdr uv taydr yht vunkejahacc, Baralai felt himself being pushed to the ground. 

He could feel the warm liquid surround his limbs and the heavy weight of his attacker lowering down to where his abdomen was. Hated how easily or how readily his body arched at the gentle stroking.

Baralai's stomach tightened further as the creature made short work of any type of resistance his body made. Finding all the right buttons to push to make him bend to it's will. A small part of him told him to go away, pretend that this wasn't happening. Shut his body out to save his mind.

The praetor found himself amazed at how easily he followed the voice. Numbing his body to protect his mind.

He had recited the Death Passage of the Al Bhed perfectly. Word for word, inflection and tone had been perfect. He knew a few words but, even the fluidity surprised him. Normally, he stumbled on a few words, failed to make sentences.

He bit down on his lip, feeling the blood drip down his chin slowly. His eyes watered as he continued to bite harder, trying to block out the sensations that his nerves were giving him.

The guards pounded harder on the door, their doubts and concerns raising even further. The silence that had fallen did nothing to ease any concerns.

Baralai closed his eyes, the thumping being muffled by his own heartbeat and by the warm emerald coloured water.

He screamed as he felt something cover his mouth. Screaming harder as it tried to push something slimy past his lips and teeth.

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NOOJ! GIPPAL! he sobbed mentally, _help…_

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Translation:

*May my life be worthy to be graced by your favour, may it be graced by your wisdom. May it be graced by your ever lasting love and to be lead to the place were peace is eternal. I, Baralai, seek nothing but the warmth of death and forgiveness.


End file.
